


Coran The Great's Epic Tale of Superb Adventures Befitting the Wonderful Gay Uncle

by YouWannaGoBro



Series: Lance and Coran are Besties [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adventures with team blue, BAMF Coran, BAMF Lance, Corangst, Courtesy of Lance, I just need more stuff about Coran okay, Lance and Coran Angst Together, Lance and Coran are Besties, Langst, Multi, So Many References to Star Wars and Star Trek, The ships are mostly just talked about, Wrote this with my sibling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9107464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouWannaGoBro/pseuds/YouWannaGoBro
Summary: Starring: Coran and LanceFeaturing: Angst and Pining“It’s not that I don’t have faith in Coran and Lance but- are you sure they’ll be okay?” He asked while the two watched the blue lion rocket out of the hangar while doing a backflip before shooting off into space. “They’re just- them.”“It’ll be fine,” Allura tried. Somehow she found herself doubting her own words. “It’s just a supply run. What’s the worst that could happen?”





	1. The Twiligtening

Coran and Lance stood side by side, both with their hands perched atop their hips as they marvelled at their handiwork.

“You know,” Lance began, his blue eyes briefly darting to his mustachioed friend., “I feel like this is when someone is supposed to say this is a bad idea or that they have a bad feeling about this- but, honestly, I’m so incredibly on board with this plan that I don’t care.”

Coran laughed, smacking a hand over the younger man’s back. “I couldn’t agree more! I think I hear him approaching. Now, shall we free the Korgnagh?”

“Let ‘er rip, buddy!” The blue paladin agreed while not batting an eye at the Altean idiom. “You pull the string, I’ll say the line.”

When the door to the common room swished open for Keith, he was treated to a surprising sight. Lance and Coran stood in the center of the room, frowning and staring at what looked to be a cannon. In the Altean’s hand was half of a charred piece of string. Also, the cannon was spewing fire. The entire room was on fire. It also smelled oddly _floral_.

It was Coran who eventually noticed the red paladin standing in the doorway. He quickly slapped Lance’s side, trying to get his attention.

“Was it because we just stuffed the gunpowder and rose petals in there without separa- Oh Quiznak! Keith!” Lance went from mumbling to shouting as he spun around to face his rival. Attempting to hide the flaming weaponry behind his body (and failing miserably), the blue paladin chuckled nervously. “Mierda! Necesito improvisar!” He glared at the ceiling in thought for a moment before inspiration struck. “Keith, is it hot in here- or is it just me?” Lance topped that masterpiece off with an eyebrow waggle and a high five from Coran. Smooth.

“The room is on fire,” Keith answered incredulously. He paused, to stare at Lance and Coran in confusion, before exiting the room with a mumble. “I’m going to go find Allura.”

As the door slid shut behind the red paladin, Coran clapped in delight. “Well, I think that was a complete success! I must say, Lance, Earth courting rituals are rather fun.”

Lance kept his easy smile on his face for one more second before letting it fall. Slapping his hands over the now mortified expression, the teen groaned. “No, dude, we majorly quiznaked this one up. It was bad.”

“Are you sure?” Coran asked as he rubbed at his mustache. “I’m sure I’d be delighted if someone were to perform this act for me.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Coran,” Lance mumbled as he let his hands slowly slide down his face- hopefully, some of his shame would come off with the skin cells. “Do me a favor? If anyone asks, this wasn’t an attempt to flirt with Keith. We were- I don’t know what… trying to pull a prank? Yeah, I was teaching you about Earth pranking culture.”

“Very well,” Coran hummed. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather Keith know this was to win his affections? When I was a younger Altean, there were many times I didn’t speak my heart and many loves I let slip through my fingers because I never told them how I felt.” Coran quieted as his immense age reflected in his eyes while he recalled the past. “I don’t want you to have the same regrets.”

Lance glanced at the man before smiling. “Don’t be like that, Coran. We’ll find you some rich, handsome alien boyfriend who’ll worship the ground you walk on! I’ll be the space best man at your space wedding and I’ll give the best space best man speech ever made in space.”

Coran chuckled at the paladin’s vision of the future. “If only love were that easy. I assume space best man is a position of honor on Earth- may I be your space best man?”

“I mean, I promised Hunk he could be my best man when we were eight and he was so happy he cried. Every year he makes me renew that promise and I think he’s already got half the speech written. Then again, there probably isn’t a rule against space best _men_ \- ya know, since it’s space!”

“What-” Before Coran could continue, the door opened to reveal a fuming Allura with Keith peeking over her shoulder. Ah, yes, the fire.

“What- How- WHY?!” The princess cried out. She was a little too upset to remember sentence structure.

“Lance was teaching me about Earth pranks,” the man answered with a bright smile. “It’s quite fun!” The redhead shot the Cuban boy a covert thumbs up from behind his back. Lance returned the gesture.

“Coran and I were just spending some bonding time together,” Lance said innocently, harshly contrasting the flames surrounding him. He tried to ignore the way Keith flinched at the b-word.

“You two enjoy bonding time, hm?” Allura asked rhetorically with a painfully tight smile. “Well, after you’ve cleaned up this mess, you can bond some more as the two of you are now responsible for the entirety of the supply run we need from the neutral planet, Datang III.” Turning on her heel, she marched away. Probably to go rant to Shiro. He was a good listener. Keith gave the flaming room one last flat glance before walking down the hall.

Staring at the destruction surrounding them, Lance turned back to Coran. “I don’t suppose you’ve got some super fast Altean self-cleaning system for times like these?”

“Mmm,” Coran looked to the ceiling, “no. We do have a sprinkler system to put out the fire!”

After hours of cleaning, the two goofballs of the Voltron crew were ready to depart for supplies.

“Here’s the list,” Allura handed a note to Coran. “Don’t come back until you have everything.”

Lance was already in Blue’s cockpit, preparing for departure. He’d developed a habit of speaking aloud to Blue. He did his best not to during important missions (when Keith would be able to hear over the comms), but on a simple supply run he wouldn’t be holding back. “Ay, mi gatita bonita, vamos a una aventura hoy. Coran va tambien. Yo se que nosotros no volabamos mucho la semana pasada. Eso va a cambiar! Y después voy darte una bañera. Es bueno?” He smiled at the purr of satisfaction reverberating in his mind.

“Speaking with Blue in Spanish?” Coran asked as he joined the paladin in the cockpit. “I’m sure she appreciates it. Thank you, also, for teaching me some of your native language. It’s quite… lyrical,” the man said with a smile.

“It was the least I could do after everything you’ve done for us. Besides, now you get to join in on Hunk and my gossip sessions. Chisme!” Lance replied with a grin.

Standing on the bridge, Allura opened the hangar so the blue lion could fly out. Shiro stood next to her, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“It’s not that I don’t have faith in Coran and Lance but- are you sure they’ll be okay?” He asked while the two watched the blue lion rocket out of the hangar while doing a backflip before shooting off into space. “They’re just- them.”

“It’ll be fine,” Allura tried. Somehow she found herself doubting her own words. “It’s just a supply run. What’s the worst that could happen?”


	2. The Worst That Could Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance realizes the great truths of the universe. Star Trek is real but Star Wars isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should probably keep a little sheet of paper beside you when you read this to tally all the Star Wars and Star Trek references. Lance is a geek.

“I’m just saying,” Lance continued as he expertly twirled his lion of out the way of space debris, “that, you know, I don’t _actually_ care what he thinks. Just, he should know I’m the most eligible freakin’ bachelor paladin.” The teen paused to note the look Coran was giving him. “What? I would say the title belonged to Shiro -because _DAY-um_ \- if it weren’t for the fact that I'm _pretty_ sure he's got someone back home, judging by the way he kinda wistfully stares into space sometimes.”

Coran nodded wholeheartedly. “I think Allura believes the same, which is why she hasn't made a move.”

“It's so weird.” Lance replied. "Space mom and space dad are kinda space divorced, or, well, they get along and were never space married so maybe it's, like, space cohabitating? Platonic space life partners?"

“Why do you put the word space in front of so many words?”

“Because we’re in space!” The teen replied with a large grin. With his eyes directed to the cosmos around them, he let Blue slide into a few easy flips and tricks. “I used to look up at the stars from the beach at night and now I’m up here with them.” His smile lessened as his thoughts drifted back to home. “And now the beach is so far away I can’t see it.” Coran rested his hand on Lance’s shoulder. Altea couldn’t be seen either. They were both lost in space, far from their homes with little chance of ever returning. “But space is great!” Lance declared around an awkward cracking and pitching in his voice. “I always wanted to come here.”

Coran smiled weakly. “You remind me of myself when I was younger. It is unfortunate that you have so much in common with my current self. Someone so young should not have to miss their home so dearly. That is a practice best saved for the older generations.”

“You’re not that old!” Lance insisted with a quick slap on Coran’s shoulder. “You’re an eligible space bachelor too and I’m going to find you that space boyfriend dammit!”

“Can we do the Earth ritual of flaming flora to court them? I quite enjoyed that one.” The redhead replied with a grin. 

Lance let out a sigh as they neared the planet. “Sure. I’m positive it’ll work better for your space crush than it did on Keith. Because he’s dumb and I don’t care about him anyway.” Coran laughed as the teen began to mutter to himself. “Freakin’ mullet thinks he’s so attractive with su piel como nieve y sus ojos que son tan brillante-” The Cuban boy snapped out of his thoughts as they entered the atmosphere of the planet. “Hold onto something, looks like their atmosphere is pretty dense.” Lance had been working on his landings, so it wasn’t all _that_ bumpy of a ride to the planet’s surface. Coran and Lance, in the very least, thought the landing smooth enough. In fact, the blue paladin had only gotten four bruises in the process. The teenager hopped rambunctiously from Blue’s docking bay with his pseudo-uncle strolling along merrily behind him. “You’ve got the list, right?”

“I most certainly do. We’ve all learned that I’m the designated keeper of _things_ when we go on excursions together. We don’t want another _umbrella incident_ ,” Coran replied cheekily.

“Okay, that was one-”

“Three.”

“-only _three_ times! Besides, how was I supposed to know those umbrellas were so vital to repelling the molten hot goo that those giant ant things were spraying at us?” Lance declared with his hands on his hips.

“Because Allura told you,” Coran shot back with a grin, walking right past the playfully affronted blue paladin. 

“Well, I never!” The boy called out, presumably making some kind of Earthling joke.

“The market should be about 15 leagues from here. Won’t take us long to get there at all,” the Altean spoke, ignoring Lance’s indignant scoff. Instead of continuing his protests, Lance bounced up to Coran’s side to stare at the township skyline in the distance.

“This will be _so_ easy,” Lance decided aloud.

“Unfortunately,” Coran reminded him, “that is what you said about the rose petal cannon as well.”

At first it seemed as though Lance had been correct and that, in an odd twist of fate, declaring something would be easy did _not_ somehow provoke the space gods into raining hell upon the voltron team. The duo quickly navigated their way through the market, haggling like pros with Coran’s experience and knowledge and Lance’s charisma and quick wit. Within two hours they’d found just about everything on their list, gotten it for an excellent price, and had it transported back to Blue. 

“All that’s left is something called kyber crystals,” Lance mumbled as he leaned against Coran’s side. “Hey, wait, isn’t that the thing in Star-”

“Kyber crystals?” The redheaded man interrupted, “they’re the pure crystallized form of a type of sucrose substitute that I need for the sweets Allura likes.”

Lance hummed. “Not the thing I was thinking of then. Just to be sure, though, no one uses them to power weapons and stuff right? No death lasers and planet destroyers?”

Coran snorted in amusement. “Of course not. Any common produce vendor should have some- ah, such as that one right there.” The Altean gestured to a stand with a mustard yellow banner and an assortment of dried and preserved alien fauna hanging from the makeshift roof. 

“Woah,” Lance said, “requesting to enter Lieutenant Sulu’s quarters are we?”

“Shoeloo?” Coran asked, baffled.

“No, no. Sulu. Remember the one show I told you about, Star Trek?”

“Ah, yes!” Coran clapped his hands in delight. “The quirky comedy about _space explorers_.” The redhead snorted and twirled one of the tips of his mustache. “The synopses of episodes you shared with me were quite entertaining. Materializing food without a dynamic field cell in hyperflux is just-” he stifled a giggle and turned back to the tent. “Well, lets finish our errands, shall we?” The two entered the tent, quickly finding the shopkeep. The shopkeep was the most humanoid looking alien they’d encountered so far on the planet, bearing many physiological resemblances to Japanese people.

Setting down a plant they’d been tending to, the shopkeep turned around to greet the new customers. “Ohm Ai,” they called.

“Ohm Ai,” Coran responded gracefully as Lance froze. Shaking for reasons the Altean did not understand, the Cuban boy merely patted the redhead on the shoulder, telling his companion he’d wait outside and swiftly left the structure. Coran did his best to ignore the bellowing laughter he heard moments later from beyond the stall’s walls. “Do you have any kyber crystals in stock?”

The shopkeep jerkily halted all movements to stare the Altean down. His brown eyes swept up and down Coran’s form, scrutinizing every detail, before frowning and shaking his head. “You’ve just arrived here, haven’t you? No one in this town has any kyber crystals in stock.”

“Really?” The man asked in surprise, “how odd. They should be quite popular in this area due to the mining colony. Is something wrong with the mines?”

“It’s functioning fine, however it was taken over by the WOT Industrial Enterprise, the local criminal syndicate that’s more powerful than the law here. No one has any access to the kyber crystals except them. No one even knows what they want with the stuff either. It’s just a sweetener and yet they’re hoarding the stuff like it’s the key to eternal life.”

“Oh dear, however I’m afraid my companion and I absolutely must get some though,” Coran muttered. “We were expressly told we could not return without everything on the list.”  
“Then I guess you’re going to have to talk to the WOTs. Good luck with that though. Not just anyone is invited to have an audience with their leaders.” With that the shopkeep turned away to tend to plants.

“Hey, Coran?” Lance poked his head inside the flaps acting like a doorway, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic amount of uncertainty. “Some guy walked up to me and started hitting on me, which is nice and I appreciated the attention and all, except then he started bragging about being really important to this organized crime ring- called it WHAT or something- and, well, long story short I’ve got these weird ticket looking things that will apparently get us into their local hangout. I’m not sure what to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too hype for Adam not to revise this chapter!


	3. Lance is Hot (TM)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance's attractiveness functions as a deus ex machina for the plot.
> 
>  
> 
> (Also Lance totally ships Spirk.)

So Star Trek was real is what Lance had discovered on this day. Star Wars might not be, seeing as the power source of light sabers and death stars was actually a sugar substitute in real life, but Lance felt as though he’d come out on top having met a beautiful Sulu/George Takei/John Cho hybrid that existed in real life.

“I’ve never seen you around before,” a voice purred in Lance’s ear, disrupting his geeking out and causing him to jump. Whipping around, Lance spotted an alien with ruby red skin, four arms tucked leisurely into the pockets of something that looked remarkably like a leather jacket, and an easy grin revealing blunt teeth. This newcomer was maybe half a foot taller than Lance, his bright teal eyes tracing up and down Lance’s form before settling on the human’s own pair of eyes. “You new here? What’s your name?”

“Lance,” the teen replied, preening a bit under the attention he was given. His surprise suitor wasn’t all that bad looking. Lance was pansexual for a reason, after all. Aesthetically, Lance would put him at a solid 7- not pursue to the ends of the Earth worthy but definitely not a no either.

“I’m Sita,” the alien’s voice had a rolling gravel quality to it, almost as if he were constantly purring contentedly like a cat, reminding Lance of Blue and putting him instinctively at ease. “I’m kind of big deal around here. By now I’m sure you know about the gang that runs this city, the WOTs.” The human said nothing, not sure where the conversation was going. “I don’t _really_ want to brag but I’m one of the leaders of the gang, really important, powerful, wealthy, you know. Anyway,” the figure pulled one of his hands his pockets to hand Lance two small pieces of parchment with scribbles in blue on them as well as the logo of some bar. “You should drop by the hang out and find me to, you know, chat. The place could use a little beautification and nothing would make it look nicer than you walking into the room.” Turning around and walking away, Sita said one last thing over his shoulder. “The joint is really easy to find, you’ll know it when you see it. Anyway, hope I see you there, beautiful!”

Lance blinked in surprise at the paper in his hands before looking back up at the retreating figure, bewildered. The teen was so used to being the overtly forward flirter, he’d never been on the receiving end before. It was disorienting, to say the least. He felt a little like how he imagined the aliens Kirk would hit on and somehow get into bed with always felt after the charismatic typhoon swept in and out of their lives. Dazed, confused, tickled by the attention but doubtful- because, ultimately, Kirk had Spock. Kirk didn’t really _need_ all those bed partners the same way he did Spock. Lance knew Spirk was canon, if not in the TV shows, then in his heart. Sita was not looking for a Spock when he was looking at Lance, but rather just another one episode cameo to be forgotten, name tiny in the credits after the show ended rather than the large white “STARRING” font the music played over in the beginning. The boy knew, realistically, that not everyone got to be a Kirk or Spock, not everyone could have their name in the big white font that filled the screen- but Lance wanted that regardless, hell, he wanted it even more just because he knew it was hard to achieve. Lance might be a nobody with no skills now but Voltron was giving him the chance to be a real _somebody_. Someone with statues built in their honor. Someone revered. Someone impossible to forget.

_”Who are you?”_ Keith’s initial complete lack of knowledge of his so-called rival, the complete ignorance of his very existence- that had hurt. You don’t come from a big family like Lance had secure in your standing. Having to compete with others constantly for food, for attention, for funds for extracurriculars, for love itself buries a seed of insecurity in a child. By now, Lance’s seed had sprouted and twisted its root and vines, tangling itself, into the very essence of Lance's being. Lance had to be loud, brash, and bright. He needed the attention because that was the only way he could be sure people wouldn’t forget about him- the way his mom had when they went on a roadtrip along the coast and she accidentally left him behind at a gas station, not returning until two hours later; the way his brothers did when they all ran to the grocery store to run errands for their father and Lance got separated from the pack and wandered, lost, around the town at the age of 5, trying to find his way home; the way his abuelita had forgotten to get him a present for Christmas when he was ten, staring at him in surprise as he stood amongst his siblings as they were tearing into wrapping paper, before she admitted she might have forgotten he existed. 

So Lance needed his name in the big white font at the beginning. While Sita was pretty attractive, Lance was hesitant about the whole crime organization thing and he just didn’t like the way he felt like his name was small and only going to be in one episode. Maybe he should change the way he flirted with some people if it made them feel this uncomfortable too, but first-

“Hey Coran?”

\----

Coran stood in front of a very populated looking establishment with Lance peeking at the entrance from behind him. Coran could tell his young friend was quite conflicted about their decision to speak to the crime ring in order to get sugar, however Allura had said they could not return until they had _everything_ on the list. Both of them would rather face a bar full of mafiosos before an angry Allura any day. Pulling the tickets from his pocket, Lance passed them to Coran. The redhead nodded and strolled forward to face the two burly aliens framing the entryway. Handing the tickets to the guard closest to them, the large creature squinted at the visitors and their papers before nodding and moving aside to let them in. The Altean took long measured strides, no stranger to tense situations like this, even as his human companion skittered behind him, long tan fingers pressed against the blue back of Coran’s uniform, seeking security.

“Oh quiznak,” Lance murmured as he gaped at the dark, smoky room the two entered. “Coran, tell me we aren’t going to die today.”

“We won’t die today, Lance,” the man replied jovially, tilting his head back to peak at the cowering human behind him. “It’s far more likely they’d prolong torturing us first, to send a message to their enemies and others they perceive to be like us, before killing us.”

“Great,” the Cuban teen sighed, letting his forehead fall flat against Coran’s back.

“Not to worry, Lance,” the redhead answered as he walked forward into the misty darkness. “We would need to do something they would perceive as an offense first. I hardly doubt this criminal organization is the type to abruptly attack people without reason. Such organizations tend not to organize well and any time spent in power is short lived and tumultuous.” 

With that the pair had cleared the smoky corridor and stepped into a large room. The only lights in the room were some multicolored beams which swung unsettlingly from the ceiling, abruptly casting extremely out of place bright pinks, yellows, and greens over scenes that reminded Lance of Jabba the Hutt’s lair, and a few white spotlights centered on a stage on the far end of the room. There was a packed bar, covered in drinks and people, to their left and a dance floor to their right. Some of the fog from the corridor wafted in, making everything hazy and giving a dreamlike quality to the whole scene. Lance felt as though a David Bowie impersonator was going to burst onto the stage any moment and deliver some kind of spin off of Magic Dance from the Labyrinth. _Wait_ , actually Lance would really like to see that. _Actually_ , Lance would really like to perform it himself. Who could he talk to about that?

“This reminds me of a time when I was still in the elite guard. Did I ever tell you the story of the time I went undercover in a crime syndicate and ended up the boss’ right hand man before we finished?” Coran asked as the two moved towards the bar.

“Not yet,” Lance responded, curiosity causing him to forget his fear as he ducked around to stand at Coran’s side so he could look the older man in the eyes. “But if it’s anything like the last story you told me about your time in the elite guard then I’m dying to hear it.”

The Altean opened his mouth to launch into his tale when a voice boomed through the room, laden with static and screeching feedback. “We’ve kept you waiting long enough. It’s time for the show!” Coran and Lance both cooed in delight, swivelling to watch the stage. The curtains pulled back elegantly, a heavy pounding beat reminding Lance of a drumroll echoing throughout the establishment. Swooping over the edges of the stage and even some of the patrons sitting closest, the spotlights finally settled on centerstage, illuminating a cage holding what looked to be three small alien children. They were bruised, covered in dirt, and dressed in rags, clutching each other, shivering, and hiding their faces from the bright light.

“Oh quiznak,” Coran sighed.


	4. Ayy 'S Me Yo Boi, Sita

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets scouted.

Coran was, at this moment, quite sure of a few things.

Number 1: The WOT gang was obviously exceptionally morally corrupt and far more hazardous to the local community than initially estimated.

Number 2: The likelihood of Coran and Lance simply being able to successfully bargain with the leaders for some of the kyber crystals had just decreased drastically as-

Number 3: Without even looking, Coran was perfectly aware that Lance had charged forward towards the children. Lance had no intention of learning what it was the show intended to do with the children.

The Altean quickly caught up with his furious companion, ready to stand by him and his impulsive actions. Popping his knuckles as he took swift steps towards the stage, Coran tried to bury the tiny delight he felt at being a part of the action once more. It had been many years since he’d gotten to participate in an all out bar brawl. He felt as though he were young and rebellious once more, just the bastard son of a disgraced and dead nobleman, fighting his way through life while gritting his teeth and grinning. It was his mean right hook in one of those brawls in his past that had impressed a high ranking official and gotten him dragged, largely unwillingly, into the service. The only reason he didn’t turn tail and run had been that joining the army had promised a stable living situation for his mother and younger sibling, both of whom deserved better than the lot they’d been given in life. Being a military man meant they could live in comfort and so Coran put his rebellious days behind him. However, in this moment, he was young and dumb again. His blood was boiling and a manic grin pulled at the insides of his cheeks even as he showed a frown.

At his side was an equally rebellious cohort- was this how Lance always felt? So bursting at the seams with energy and youth, he could barely stop himself from throwing a punch at the nearest person? Coran had forgotten with time what it felt like to be this person, the youngling that their elders frown at distastefully. 

It was times like this that reminded Coran just one of the reasons why he enjoyed spending time with the odd Earthling that was Lance.

Speaking of Lance- the teen had easily leapt onto the stage and strode right towards the cage, ignoring the stunned gasps at his actions. Coran had just mounted the stage as well when he noticed Lance being hauled up by his collar to face another large bouncer. The human and alien glared at one another, growling, as neither flinched at the intensity of the gaze they shared. Just as Coran slipped into the proper stance to perform a running tackle, another figure joined them on stage, his four arms held up in the air peacefully.

“Naijul, Naijul! Put him down, man. I invited him here.” The newcomer, a ruby red alien, called amicably, his tone light. When the bouncer hesitated to do as he was told, Sita frowned. “Now, Naijul.” His voice had lost all pleasantness to it. The moment Lance’s feet were back on the ground he quickly put himself between the children and Sita and Naijul, holding his arms out protectively. “I’m so glad you could make it!” Sita chirped, strolling towards Lance without a hint of concern to the furious expression the human bore or his agitated stance.

“These are children,” Lance hissed back. “They’re caged, dirty, and it’s obvious no one has fed them in days. _Que mierda_?!”

Sita blinked in surprise before glancing around Lance to look at the children, as though he hadn’t noticed them before now. “You do seem to be quite right. Is this kind of show not to your liking? I know the orphan sports aren’t to everyone’s tastes.”

“Let these children go,” Lance demanded, his posture unfaltering. 

“You heard the man,” Sita declared, whirling to face Naijul, “release them.”

“But the show-” the bouncer squeaked back in a surprisingly high pitched voice.

“You dare disobey?” Sita growled, his teal eyes narrowing dangerously. Naijul quickly slipped past Lance to unlock the cage. The moment the metal barred door swung open the children scattered, bolting for the exit as they spared one last glance at the strange brown and blue being who’s somehow freed them. “Sorry about that, cutie. You know how it is, crime syndicate and all.” Wrapping his two right arms around Lance’s shoulders, he guided the human offstage, to what looked to be a VIP area through a doorway in the back corner. Coran, merely relieved everything had been resolved without any bloodshed, quickly followed after. “You’ve got a remarkably big heart,” the redhead heard the alien speaking with Lance say, “hopefully you’ve got some room for me in it.” 

It was far quieter in the VIP room as Coran, Lance, and Sita headed to two couches to their left. Coran sat on one and Lance moved to sit next to him before he felt an arm wrap around his waist and drag him back, into Sita’s lap.

“Oh,” Lance managed to murmur, staring in surprise at Coran whose bright orange eyebrows were raised in bafflement and worry.

“Let’s talk business, shall we?” the mobster said through an easy smile. Letting the human slide off his lap into the seat next to him, Sita shot a quick glance at Coran before turning all of his attention to Lance. “This business I’m in, it’s tough. I’m one of the leaders but we’re always butting heads, fighting for dominance. I need every advantage I can get. You’re exactly the kind of advantage I’m looking for.”

“What?” Lance squawked, sharing a panicked look with his companion. _Was Lance getting recruited for the local mob?_

“I wouldn’t make you get involved in the dangerous stuff,” Sita immediately said, holding his four hands in the air in surrender. “Wouldn’t want you dirtying up that pretty face or that kind soul. What I need you for is appearances.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Lance replied, “but the reason why I win fights is _not_ because of my good looks.”

“His appearance does not seem to be that fitting of an intimidation tactic,” Coran chimed in, nodding to Lance’s statement. 

“Exactly,” Sita grinned. “Your presence helps me out in several ways, all concerning appearance. First of all, you are absolutely lovely and getting to see you every day could only sweeten my life.” Lance blushed and Coran giggled, amused at the antics of young love. “Secondly, your blatantly off world appearance would really throw some of my fellow leaders off kilter. A fair portion of them are crotchety old racists and seeing you at my side would really piss them off. They’d be so distracted by your presence, they wouldn’t notice any of the things I’ve got going on behind their backs. Lastly, you’re obviously a do-gooder. Just look at what you did for those kids back there. You’re a follow your heart, protect the weak, help those in need hero. A hero of the people. After what you pulled today word is going to spread about you. People will look to you as a source of hope in these tough times. If they see you with me they’ll associate me with the same do-gooding. I need to build up a reputation and get the people behind me in order to orchestrate the downfall of the people I’m working with.” Taking Lance’s hands in his own, Sita bore his teal eyes into Lance’s navy. “I don’t like the way they run things. They push it too far, too many people are getting hurt. Help me stop this.” He paused before glancing over to Coran. “Your friend can, obviously, join us as well. He looks… experienced.”

“You have no idea,” The Cuban teen said sharing a grin with the Altean.

“I’m sure you’ll need time to think about it,” Sita said slowly. Lance and Coran quickly made eye contact. After all the time the two had spent together, they didn’t quite need words in order to communicate effectively. _Retreat and consider our options. Make a decision in a safer place._ Lance opened his mouth to bid the alien goodbye when he was pulled up to a standing position by the four arms. “Which is why I’ll take Lance here on a tour of our facilities in the meantime. Coran, that’s your name, right?” The redhead nodded. “We’ll stay in touch. Mmrek,” he motioned to an alien standing next to the entrance to the VIP area, “will show you the door.”

Coran frowned and moved to stand between Lance and Sita. He knew this was risky, potentially picking a fight with the local crime syndicate even though they were already on shaky ground, but it was worth it. Coran didn’t want to leave his young friend alone in such a dangerous place. A tan hand landed softly on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Coran.” Lance said, his dark blue eyes boring into Coran’s face. “We’ll meet up in a bit, cool?” The Altean sighed and pulled a gloved hand through his bright orange locks. This was less than stellar.


	5. A Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance makes a new friend and, for the record, he would make an absolutely lovely coat.
> 
> Cruella DeVil would be lucky to have his skin.

Lance was pushed through a maze of hallways, two red arms wrapped around his shoulders keeping him locked in place and wedged against Sita’s side. Sita kept up a rambling monologue about everything they passed that put Lance’s own chatterbox nature to shame. Some of the other members of the organization occasionally passing by the pair would exchange a few quick words with the figurehead but, for the most part, they were left alone to continue their tour unimpeded.

“Lord Sita, sir,” a voice called from the opposite end of the hallway. Lance caught sight of the grimace his alien suitor before the red fellow spun around to face their interloper. They were a very short alien, skin more of a blood orange than an actual red. They had large, round mustard yellow eyes and a disapproving frown on their lips. Their whole body radiated an annoyed vein of displeasure that reminded Lance distinctly of Pidge. “Would you care to explain why it is you saw fit to royally _piss off_ Lord Xell today?”

Sita bore an easy smile as his teal gaze darted briefly to Lance before setting back on his coworker with a wry amusement. “I’m always pissing him off. This is hardly nothing new.”

“And _that_ is _exactly_ the problem!” came the shouted reply. “You’re already on shaky ground with Lord Xell what with you always butting heads. We really didn’t need the extra burden of interrupting his favorite pastime, no matter how despicable. You just risked war between our faction and his! So tell me why you could _possibly_ think it had been a good idea?”

Lance clenched a fist. Screw intra-mob relations. Whatever was going to happen to those orphans was going to be disgusting, he could tell just by looking. Who cared who saving the orphans pissed off?! He was too busy _saving orphans!_

The mob leader only smiled and tightened the two arms around the paladin’s shoulders. “It was a long term investment.”

Mustard yellow eyes glared at the human briefly before settling back on Sita. Huffing a sigh, the blood orange individual pinched the bridge if their smooth, flat nose. “Of course.” Straightening up, they pulled back their shoulders and leveled Lance with an appraising stare. “The name’s Kep. I’m the only reason this idiot’s still alive. If you impede my life mission of making sure he doesn’t end up dead in a ditch, I’ll peel off all your weird brown skin and make a coat out of it.”

Lance blinked in surprise and couldn’t stop himself from blurting out probably the worst possible reply. “It’ll be a damn fine coat. I moisturize daily.”

Kep paused before grinning dangerously. “Nevermind. I like him, Sita. I’m trading you out for this guy.”

“This guy is Lance and I don’t blame you,” Sita said with a smile. “He’s considering joining us.”

“Good,” Kep replied amicably, “we need someone who gets my sense of humor.”

It was only his extensive experience with Pidge that let Lance know exactly how to respond to keep Kep’s favor. “You weren’t joking.”

The small alien grinned. “Exactly.”

\----

Coran frowned pulling lightly on the bright hairs of his mustache. He and Lance had been separated and this supply run was taking longer than expected. He’d need to secure lodging for the young paladin and himself so they’d have somewhere to stay until they dealt with the present situation. Normally he’d suggest they simply reside in the blue lion, however they were already gaining enough attention as it was. If people followed them back to the lion and realized their affiliation with Voltron, everything would only become even more unnecessarily complicated.

Strolling up to the front desk of a small inn, Coran tipped his head in greeting to the innkeeper. She was a woman with dark maroon skin, soft, duckling yellow eyes, and dark hair in tight, perfectly formed ringlets. Her posture was stiff, rigid lines making her plump figure look more awkward. He supposed simply the novelty of his appearance could be setting her on edge.

“Hello, I was hoping to procure some lodgings,” he tried with a pleasant smile. “What forms of monetary compensation do you take?” After a brief conversation in which she was assured he could pay, she lightened up considerably. She showed him to their room, a small thing with a single window and two cots pushed against the wall. With that taken care of Coran set out to gather information on this Sita fellow who temporarily, taken custody of Lance.

\----

Lance slowly drew his gaze over all the new faces gathered in the room. A fair number of these members of Sita’s faction actually had startilingly similar facial features. The only thing that differentiated three of the men was the shape of their facial hair. When he’d asked if they were related, many people had looked at him bewildered. Apparently the three couldn’t possibly look more different in their eyes. Lance, according to them, had quite a strong resemblance to Kep in their opinion- despite the fact that Kep was rocking the whole Voldemort nose look, had eyes twice as large as his, no hair, and was a foot and a half shorter. Yeah, they totally looked alike.

Right as Lance was about to make a quip about he and Kep forming team hot stuff, a tall salmon colored woman strolled into the room. Everything about her was pointy. Her teeth, her nails, her eyeliner, her heels, her hair- it all sloped into dangerous, sharp tips. Lance was tempted to take a balloon and try to press it against her many spikes.  
“Lord Sita,” the woman spoke with a voice that chimed- it was high pitched and just had a _ringing_ quality to it. Not entirely unpleasant but not Lance’s first choice if he could decide what his voice sounded like. (He’d want to be a trombone.) “Lord Xell would like an audience with you.”

Sita straightened up, his bright eyes levelling the woman with a condescending glance. “Aw, see, I would love to, but I’m a little busy, being a lord and all.”

The woman only smirked in reply. “Lord Xell expected such an answer and, as such, has accompanied me.” She stepped aside to a very bulbous, baby pink individual could lumber into the room.

“Sita!” Xell boomed in a loud voice, throwing his four arms in the air. His moss green eyes darted over the people in the room, lagging slightly on Lance, before settling on his fellow mob leader. “I see you’re in the midst of a _very_ important meeting. No wonder you couldn’t come and see me.” He took ownership of one of the chairs in the room with a grace that reminded the paladin of Dr. Eggman.

“I’m glad you understand,” Sita said with a sweet smile.

“Yes, well, I just wanted to have a quick chat about the orphan games.” Lance stiffened causing the newcomer to dart his gaze to him. “Ah, yes. I do believe you’re the reason for the delay.” The human glared back at the man, but Xell ignored him in favor of Sita. “We just got another shipment of orphans in. While I’m still selling the majority to factories and nobles for profit, I’m keeping a larger portion than usual for the orphan games. I’m thinking of having a grand event, a tourney perhaps. I do hope you’ll attend.” His moss green eyes slid back over to the fuming Lance before he stood and left the room. Sita maintained an apathetic posture until Xell and the woman left. The red alien slouched forward with a sigh before his teal eyes darted to a near growling Lance.

“Would it piss him off if I joined you?” The human abruptly asked.

“Ooh, yes,” Kep replied casually, shooting Sita a wry grin. “He’d be furious. Incredibly xenophobic. You only having two arms is enough to burn him from the inside out.”  
Lance turned his startlingly blue eyes on Sita. “I’ll join so long as my job description is specifically dicking him over.”

Sita grinned. “Wonderful! So, team, how do we, as our newest member so eloquently put it, _dick over_ Lord Xell?”

\----

“Lord Sita?” The alien chirped brightly. “Oh, he’s simply the greatest. Lord Oltip was planning to ransack my neighborhood but Lord Sita got her to change her mind and leave us alone!”

Coran nodded slowly. He’d heard many similar stories from those he’d been speaking with around the marketplace. Sita was quite _popular_ with the people despite being a mob lord. _A mob lord with a heart_ many said. Sita was already something of a local hero, enough that Coran wasn’t entirely sure he needed Lance to _win the people’s favor_ like he’d originally suggested. Certainly he’d heard a whisper or two about how Lance interrupted _orphan games_ while investigating but Sita’s name resounded louder, went farther, meant more. As Coran exchanged goodbyes with the merchant he’d been speaking to, the man twirled his vibrant mustache and walked away. For the most part trusting Sita seemed like a reliable alternative to he and Lance doing whatever it is they’re trying to do on their own.

With a sigh, the Altean slouched against the wall between two merchant tents. He wasn’t sure who he was kidding anymore. Obviously, he and Lance weren’t simply on an errand run. They’d become invested in interfereing with this crime ring. Neither was capable of turning the other cheek to a group entertained by something called _orphan games_. Being all vague about how he and his young friend were going to absolutely decimate this local mafia and hopefully help implement protections to help them from resurging. They really should get in contact with the local government and try to make some sense of this mess.

“I hear you’ve been asking about Sita,” a voice startled the man. He turned his head to spot a dusky rose colored teenager with baby blue eyes and ratty clothing. He was leaning against the wall next to Coran with something of a sneer on his face. “You’re obviously an alien. Sita’s always been something of a xenophile although you’re not quite his type.” The teen pushed off the wall to stand in front of Coran. “Still, I’m a nice guy. I’d hate for you to fall into the same trap as so many off worlders before you.” His blue sclera darted up and down the Altean’s form once more before frowning and tilting his head. “Although, seriously, you’re really not his type. He likes people who look like they’d fall flat on their face and then deliver a pick up line to whomever they landed at the feet of.” Coran had to stifle a laugh. Sita was apparently quite perceptive as Lance had done exactly that a number of times before. “Not quite the vibe you’re giving off, you know?” The alien didn’t wait for an answer. “So, whatever. Sita, right? Don’t trust him.” The Altea blinked in surprise. “I know he’s got all this _hero worship_ bullshit making him seem like he’s the best thing that’s happened to this city in a while with all the _oh, he saved my flower pots from Lord Whoever blah blah blah_. Whatever. It’s bullshit. His baby blue eyes narrowed. “Sita’s the worst of them all, so I’d stay away.” The teen turned to walk away but Coran needed more information.

“How is he the worst?” The man asked.

The boy glared over his shoulder as he froze in place. “He gives people hope. Just enough to stop them from rising up, just enough to keep them underfoot and complacent. He makes people think it’s enough that they didn’t lose their homes, like that’s a great day, when it should be the bare minimum for any day but the absolute worst. It’s fine that people are robbed, kidnapped, intimidated, and commodified because _hey, it could be worse_ when, actually, no, it really couldn’t.” With that the teen growled and started walking away once more. “He gives people hope and is an absolute shit head for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Eggman when he isn't in any of the Mario/Sonic Olympic games, that is. He is really quite graceful in those. Lance is thinking more along the lines of Eggman from Sonic X.


	6. TEAM BLUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course Lance has fake mustaches stored in Blue in case of emergencies. Fake mustaches are absolutely vital to defeating the Galra empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait! Life happened I guess. Sibling took a break from helping me write so I got distracted by the nine thousand other fanfics I'm secretly writing. Hopefully this is going to get updated fairly frequently again, but I make no promises.

Lance and Coran sat across from one another, staring each other down. Each sat on their cots in their inn room, silent. It only took a few moments for the human to give in with a groan. Slouching against the wall, the teen ran a hand through his hair.

“Okay, so,” he spoke slowly, “you got more information on Sita, most of which was people swearing their eternal servitude to him and one really shifty one about how he’s actually the worst.”

Corran nodded. “And you abruptly agreed to work for Sita after being provoked by one of the other crime lords. Backing out now would only garner more enemies.” His human companion grumbled and pulled his hand through his hair. Chuckling, the redhead smiled at his companion. “There is no need to worry. This is still quite fortuitous.”

Lance blinked in surprise. As the epiphany dawned on his face, the Cuban teen grinned. “You have a plan!” The Altean smirked and Lance hollered in response. “Aw yeah! Look out world! Here comes team blue!”

“Team blue?” Coran asked.

“I’m the blue paladin, you wear a lot of blue, Blue’s name is blue therefore team blue.” Lance answered seriously.

“Ah, that makes perfect sense.” The man nodded sagely.

“So, the plan?” the human prodded.

“You’ll be able to gather information on the organization so that we can stage our own raids and dismantle them from within and outside.” Coran explained. “So having you involved in the syndicate means we’ll always have access to a wealth of information.”

Lance hummed. “Information I learned today,” he declared, “so in this culture, facial hair is the number one signifier of identity. It’s how people tell one another apart, I guess.” A grin split his face. “Which means if we need to do a little reconnaissance, all we need are some fake mustaches and we’ll be unrecognizable.”

“We do need more information,” Coran agreed. “Right now we simply do not have enough.”

“I have fake mustaches stored in Blue,” the Cuban declared proudly. “I can sneak out of the city at night, making sure I won’t be followed. Is there anything else we’ll need?”

“I’ll compose a list,” the Altean replied. “We need to be as efficient as possible. Visiting Blue too frequently would be quite dangerous.”

“Agreed,” echoed the human.

Once the city was cast in darkness, Lance flipped up his hood of his green jacket and pulled it low over his face. Hopefully the lack of light would keep his rather distinctive clothing mostly formless and vague. He slipped through the streets silently, surprisingly adept at stealth in spite of how loud he tended to be. Ducking through shadows, the human carefully observed the night life around him-- just in case vital information could be gleaned. He saw _things_ that frustrated him, things that tore at his conscience, but he knew better than to get involved. It would be treating the symptoms when he needed to confront the disease.

After he left the township, he quickly made his way to Blue who purred in delight as he approached. The teen chuckled joyfully as her playful and teasing prodding tickled his psyche. There was the idea of a joke pushed into his thoughts, wry humor dancing behind his eyes as he burst into laughter. Lance hoped that one day they’d be able to have verbal conversations. Her jokes were hilarious and he didn’t even know what they were.

As he shuffled through her storage compartments, the pair engaged in an empathetic chat, trading feelings rather than words, sharing in the splendor of their dually excitable natures. It was the closest Lance got to the atmosphere he had at home when spending time with his siblings. The teen felt his muscles loosen and shoulders slump naturally, the tension and stress of intergalactic war draining out of him. The only thing that would make him feel any better would be the sound of the waves crashing on the beach, the smell of salt in the air, the quick rush of the cool sea breeze, and--

Lance chewed his lip as he tried to tamp down the memories of his family fighting to spill into his consciousness. Blue cooed in worry, mentally wrapping her paladin in a warm, tight hug.

“Estoy bien,” Lance murmured into the whirring hum of Blue’s mechanics. By this point he’d gathered everything he needed and was only lingering to spend more time with Blue. She chastised him, reminding him he had a job to do and the sooner it was done, the sooner this society could rebuild itself to function without the corralling of a crime syndicate, the sooner he and Coran could return to the castle of the lions, the sooner they could get back to fighting the war, the sooner they could end the war, and the sooner he could go home to his family. Assuming they won. Assuming he survived. Blue let out another mental sigh, reminding the boy to get a move on. No time for moping, he’s got a planet and then a universe to save.

Lance hurried back into town, maintaining his stealth with ease even with the added cargo. It wasn’t long before he was back in the inn with Coran, emptying out the rucksack he’d packed the supplies away in.

“So, I’m thinking the first thing we do is raid some orphan shipments. Apparently one of the worst lords, some guy that looks like if a chewed up wad of gum came to life, is _way_ too into the orphan games. He was talking about having some kind of tournament and getting more orphans ready than usual and, just, I really want to ruin his day,” Lance paused, “or, well, his entire life, but we can start with his day.”

Coran nodded. “Tomorrow, you go into the compound with your credentials, let me in, we’ll put on our disguises, and scout out information.”

“Xell better be ready to cry so much, he drowns in his own boogers,” Lance declared.

The redhead stared at the teen in confusion. “Is that an Earth saying?” 

“Not exactly,” Lance answered.

\----

Lance strolled into the bar, right through the VIP room, and into the maze of hallways at the back without ever letting himself take in the events in the front room. That was a battle for another day. The teen was able to remember his way to Sita’s group’s area well enough, and, before long, he was back in the meeting area for Sita’s faction. A few faces he remembered from yesterday were sitting on couches, running around with folders and papers in their arms or communication devices pressed to their ears, or attending to other such menial tasks. Lance wasn’t here to bother them. Spotting a blood orange figure aggressively signing sheet after sheet of paper before flinging the pages to the ground, the teen broke into a smile.

“Kep!” He called, quickly moving to their side. “You look like you could use a distraction.”

“I am indeed very tired of doing the paperwork for a bunch of illiterate degenerates,” Kep agreed as they bodily pushed themself back from the pile of paper before them. “What do you need? And, please, let it be more interesting than infrastructure agreements.”

“I was hoping for a brainstorming session on ways to piss off and dick over Xell and I figured there’s no one better suited for the task than you!” Lance responded. “You strike me as the type who has the dirt on _everybody_ and the right type of mind to know how to take advantage of it.” Again, his experience with Pidge talking.

Kep laughed. “You continue to remain my favorite. I bemoan the loss of the fabulous coat I could’ve made from your hide, but at least your personality is making up for it.”

“Being unable to exist at the same time as that glorious coat is my one true regret in life,” Lance replied solemnly. “Dicking over Xell, though!” Lance’s tone immediately brightened once more.

The small alien nodded quickly. “We should move this conversation somewhere a little more private. You never know who is listening.” With that said, Kep led Lance away from the main room and towards what looked like something Jackson Pollock would’ve made if he’d gone through a cubist phase, which confused the hell out of the teen but he figured he had more important things to worry about. The paladin was only more confused when Kep proceeded to press their entire face against the painting. By the time the colors of the painting inverted and Kep was stepping through the canvas while waving at Lance to follow, the teen had given up on being confused. He was just going to roll with it.

“This is my workspace,” Kep said with a brief wave to the area around the pair on the other side of the painting before they moved to an area that seemed to consist of nothing but bean bags. The blood orange alien flopped down on the bags stomach first and Lance was quick to follow. They both wriggled around before finally sitting up and regarding one another with extremely professional and serious decorum.

“Let’s talk about making Xell so upset and stressed out that he retires early and moves seaside only to have his new beachfront house be overtaken by the rising sea level of global warming so that he’s homeless and sad,” Lance declared.

“I’m not entirely sure what you just said,” Kep responded, “but it sounds like it would suck for Xell so, yes, let us proceed.” With that, the alien pulled out something that looked like a tablet and began tapping furiously away on its screen. “Xell’s role in the organization primarily is running a lot of the really shitty, underhanded, and downright disgusting orphan raids, wherein his people round up every kid they find on the street that isn’t attached directly to the hip of a parental figure, claim the child is an orphan, and drag said so-called orphan away to be held until it's decided where the kid will be sent: nobles, factories, or the orphan games.”

Lance stifled a growl of annoyance before raising an eyebrow at Kep. “You didn’t sound as upset about these practices yesterday.”

“Eh,” Kep answered, “I’m largely amoral. I figured you’d appreciate the language choice.” Lance frowned but Kep moved on. “If we want to undermine Xell, we need to stifle his business and try to shift the blame on him whenever possible.”

“Does he plan which areas he raids in advance? If we could get a hold of that information, we could send a warning out to the neighborhood before his goons even get there so that they can’t find any kids to drag away.” Lance suggested.

“It could work for a little while,” Kep replied, “but they might begin to suspect a leak.”

“Frame someone else in his section,” Lance answered simply. “I’m sure you’ve got people you’d love to see go down that work under him. Plant some evidence, breed fear from within, all that jazz.”

Kep chuckled menacingly. “I’ve got a long list of people I’d love to see flailing beneath my heel. Quick question though, you’re doing a lot better with this planning sabotage and strategic undermining thing than I had initially assumed you would be. I thought you were a goody two-shoes.”

“Absolutely,” Lance responded. “I believe in justice, love, and peace-- the whole nine yards. However, I’ve been a prankster since the day I was born. I’ve been exploiting people’s weaknesses and fooling them playfully my entire life. This time, I like my victims a whole lot less so I’m not too worried about hurting feelings. Actually, hurting feelings is kind of the whole point this time around.”

The duo got so invested in planning complicated revenge schemes on Xell and his crew that the two jumped in surprise when someone loudly knocked on the wall next to the painting. “KEP!” A familiar voice called loudly from outside. “LET ME IN SO I CAN RANT TO YOU ABOUT HOW CUTE THE NEW GUY IS WITHOUT HIM POTENTIALLY OVERHEARING ME.” Kep immediately cackled in loud delight as Lance’s face went up in flames. The small figure immediately bound towards the entryway and opened it up, only for Sita to pass through with his teal eyes immediately falling on the flushed Lance. “Well, you definitely overheard that,” Sita huffed. The taller alien strode forward before plopping down next to Lance and swinging two arms around the teen. “It wasn’t like it wasn’t anything you didn’t already know.”

Lance laughed awkwardly and tried to scoot away, feeling a little overwhelmed. “I’ll show myself out. Sounds like you and Kep need to talk about _something_ , and there was some stuff I was planning to do today anyway.” A quick glance at his watch confirmed it was almost time for him to sneak Coran into the compound.

Sita’s grip only tightened on the paladin. “Actually, since you’re here. I was hoping we could go on a date sometime tomorrow.”

“Uh, sure, I guess,” Lance answered hurriedly as he stood up, breaking free of Sita’s hold on him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go, uh, do _stuff_ , yeah. Bye.” He sped out of the room and was down the hallway in a flash.

Sita chuckled, teal eyes half lidded and watching Lance until he could see the human no more. “He’s adorable.”

Kep frowned, crossing their arms as they settled back in the bean bag chairs. “Sita, this one can’t be like the others. I’m genuinely starting to like the guy.”

The taller alien’s head whipped around to glare at his smaller companion. “I called dibs, Kep. You can’t butt in on my territory just because he actually talks to you.”

Scoffing, Kep scooted closer to their boss to poke an accusing finger in his face. “No, we both know _I’m_ not like that. The whole problem is you see this kid as territory, like he’s the same as all your usual conquests. But, from what little I’ve gotten to know about him so far, he isn’t like them. He doesn’t deserve what you plan to do.”

“Since when do you give a shit?” Sita asked angrily.

Kep barked out a laugh. “Since he pointed out what a nice coat he’d make. Here’s the thing though, Sita. You think that this is going to be like all the other times-- easy, convenient, and meaningless. It won’t be. Lance is different. I doubt you’ll even be able to go through with it.” The mob lord simply scoffed even as his subordinate smirked.


	7. Fake Mustaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fake mustaches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *is alive*

Lance was at a side entrance before he could finish sorting through all of the, well, _that_ which had just occurred. The teen was honestly bewildered at how flustered the flirting was making him. Shouldn't he be able to take as good as he gave? Just from a logic standpoint? Being super embarrassed was actually getting really exhausting and he didn't know if he'd be able to keep it up, especially not when he was plotting against a large crime syndicate. At this rate, Lance would have to take a break from flirting for a month just so he could recuperate. Hunk is going to think he's sick, maybe dying, when he finds out. 

Ah shit, wait, Coran. That's right.

Peeking out the side door, Lance's eyes skated across the deserted alleyway. “Coran?” he whispered. 

“Aquí,” a voice sounded from right next to the teen’s ear. 

Squealing, Lance jumped back to spot his Altean companion standing right next to the doorway. How had he not noticed him? “Holy quiznack,” Lance hissed. “You scared the, well, quiznack out of me.”

Coran only chuckled, slipping past the door and letting it shut quietly behind him. “We have work to do,” he reminded the paladin with a smile. 

“Mustache time!” The teen whisper-shouted. Digging around in his pocket, he pulled out two fake mustaches. One of which looked identical to Coran’s own. The other looked like it was ripped right off Dick Dasrardly’s face. Lance had already pasted the bright coral, bushy mustache to his upper lip before handing the thin, curly black one to his friend. The pair awkwardly stared at the faux facial hair in his hand for a moment before jolting with a simultaneous epiphany.

“Oh Quiznack, I already have a mustache!”

“Oh Quiznack, you already have a mustache!”

The pair aggressively paced in front of the door, still trying to be quiet as they racked their brains for ideas. “I can’t believe we forgot that you already had a mustache,” Lance bemoaned, burying his newly furry face into his hands.

“We are members of Voltron, the most valiant and effective battalion in the universe, defenders of justice and freedom, warriors of legend,” Coran warbled quietly, “and yet we fail to remember the existence of my glorious mustache.”

“I friggin’ made this fake mustache,” Lance gestured to his furry upper lip, “specifically designed after your own masterpiece of a facial accessory and yet we, somehow, _still_ forgot--”

The pair clammed up when they heard what sounded like footsteps approaching the entrance.

“Quiznack,” Coran repeated.

“Necesito improvisar,” Lance declared in a whisper, slapping the Dick Dastardly mustache atop Coran’s own actual mustache. “If I believe hard enough that this will work, then it will.”

The Altean let out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s what I told myself once before I ended up in an Andorian jail cell after trying to sell some crystallized _food goo_ as a new experimental recreational drug.”

“I wish I could’ve witnessed your teenage years firsthand,” Lance whispered, stiffening as the footsteps drew closer. “You sound like an absolute riot.”

“Participated in a few of those,” Coran muttered offhandedly, trying to figure out what kind of pose would appear natural to whomever it was they were about to encounter. “Not quite as fun as you seem to think they are.”

Before Lance could respond, Sita of all people rounded the corner. He casually trailed his teal eyes over them, not particularly interested in the incredibly tense pair of strangers standing by the exit. His gaze lingered a bit longer on the shorter of the duo and he abruptly came to a stop in front of them.

“You’re pretty cute,” Sita announced. “You’d probably be cuter without that unsightly fluff on your lips, but whatever. I’ve got someone else in mind right now but I’ll keep you in mind next time I’m free,” he said with a wicked grin before continuing down the hallway.

“Okay,” Lance said slowly. “So he didn’t recognize either of us, which is good.” Coran watched the teen’s brow furrow with frustration. He wanted to inquisitively stroke his mustache but he wasn’t sure how to go about that with the new addition atop it.

“But?” Coran asked inquiringly.

Lance pouted. “But he just hit on me when he thought I was someone else even though he seems so committed to no-mustache-me and maybe that kind of hurt my feelings." Huffing, the paladin turned to his friend. “I don’t really _like_ him, ya know? But it still hurts that he’d just abandon interest in me that quickly. Like I’m not special. Like I’m being forgotten.”

Coran and Lance had spoken about Lance’s insecurities about being forgotten at length. The two had frequent group therapy sessions with one another just sitting on one of the balconies, looking up at the stars, and talking. Coran knew the weaknesses that riddled Lance’s seemingly impenetrable ego just as well as Lance knew how frequently ghosts from Coran’s past came back to haunt him.

“I don’t believe he, himself, is worth remembering,” Coran decided, “seeing as he affords you much the same regard.” He paused. “Also, he insulted my mustache and, for that, he must pay. Dearly.”

Lance chuckled weakly. “Come on,” the teen said, pulling his strangest friend by the wrist and into the maze of corridors. “We’ve got information to steal and orphans to free.”

\----

The pair had learned quite a bit in their careful perusing of the base. Listening to the right rooms without being caught, shuffling through papers as though they were approved to look at them, and striking up casual conversations with those under the impression they already knew everything they were speaking off had paid off. The next three sectors of town where goons would be plucking children off the street for the orphan games in addition to the location of one of the smaller warehouses where the children were being kept (so-called “orphanages”) were now bouncing around Lance’s mind. His nerves were jittery, his hands shaking, begging to do something with all the knowledge he had acquired. He only calmed once Coran had laid a comforting, secure hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I know,” Coran assured, “what it feels like to be doing what seems to be less than nothing in the face of great evil.” His grip tightened and Lance gulped, his thoughts darting briefly to the Galra empire. “But what feels like inaction is what will enable us to do everything afterwards.” The paladin nodded, trying to communicate to Coran just how much he believed in the Altean and the words he’d spoken. He wasn’t sure words would be enough.

Having completed their reconnaissance, the pair were back outside, moving through town without their foolproof disguises. “I can take the three planned raids to my contacts within,” Lance announced. “They’ll be able to disperse word more quickly than we would in addition to framing one of Xell’s own guys.”

Coran nodded. “We’ll case the orphanage tonight. Tomorrow night, after getting an understanding of security level and rotations, we’ll break in and sneak the children out. We don’t want our first raids to be too _noticeable_.” Lance chewed his lip, trying not to dwell on the extra day the children would be in the orphanage. They’d already talked about why they were going carefully, slowly. The teen nodded again, trying to shake the thoughts out of his head more than anything else.

“I’m headed back in to coordinate with Kep and the others,” he announced, trying to give Coran a firm pat on the arm to prove that he was fine. Even if Lance wasn’t fine, he was committed and that was what mattered. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

The Altean’s searching gaze easily penetrated Lance’s soul. “We’ve got this,” Coran assured the teen. “I will see you in a few hours, Lance.” With that, the pair parted ways.

Lance was back in front of Kep’s weird painting as quickly as his legs could carry him. The faster he moved, the less time he’d have to dwell on the children in the orphanage. Strange music that bore some resemblance to rock from the 1980s was pulsing from the other side of the wall. The teen let the beat wash over his before knocking on the wall.

“Kep? I’ve got, uh,” he paused, “some juicy gossip for ya.” That was probably vague enough that anyone listening who was unfamiliar with his and Kep’s plans shouldn’t be any the wiser. Within moments the painting’s colors inverted and a blood orange hand burst out and dragged Lance in by his shirt.

“Sharing is caring,” Kep announced as they tugged the human into the room.

“I may or may not have learned the next three targets for orphan harvesting,” the teen announced immediately. 

Kep smacked him on the back of the head. “Please tell me you weren't incredibly obvious. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but you _really_ stand out. It won’t be hard for Xell and his goons to trace the leak back to you if you were noticed even once.”

Lance waggled his finger. “Ah-ah-ah,” he scolded the alien. “You underestimate my off-worlder technology.” Pulling the Dick Dastardly mustache from his pocket with a flourish, he stuck it on and raised his eyebrows at the stunned Kep.

“What the _fuck_?” Kep breathed. “The fuck is that cloaking technology?! How advanced is your civilization?”

“Um,” Lance raised his hands in surrender, “honestly, I’m pretty sure this is more a difference of, like, our brains rather than technology. I think we process faces differently because stuff like this doesn’t hide your identity where I come from. It’s mostly, like, a joke?” The paladin had no idea if he was making sense. Kep didn’t seem to care.

“Do you have any idea the kind of havoc I could cause with a device like that?” Kep asked with an evil gleam shining in their mustard yellow eyes.

“Quiznack,” Lance responded, “I was going to give you one but now I’m worried about what you’ll do with it.”

“Lance!” Kep whined. “You can trust me! I’m helping you save all those kids, right?”

“Let’s take care of mission _Ruin Xell’s Life_ before we get to the fun of fake mustaches,” Lance said. 

Kep sighed, slumping down. “Alright, tell me the locations and times. I’ve got a scapegoat all lined up.” The pair sat down and set to work. Kep was scribbling down notes as Lance spoke. In the margins, separated from all the other text, was a single word, underlined three times.

Quiznack?


	8. It's A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a date?
> 
> It's a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO. I’m back! Again… So, here’s what happened. I spent an unspecified but definitely too long amount of time scrolling through the langst tag on instagram. I was getting all the feels, getting frustrated on out sweet boy’s behalf, bemoaning the lack of Coran, punching the air and proclaiming random things even though I’d stayed up all night and it was 5 AM and my roommates would not appreciate my sporadic monologuing. This eventually evolved into aggressive pacing, flailing my arms about exaggeratedly, and talking to myself about how the boi needs a vacay. Then I had an epiphany, namely that “I WAS GIVING HIM A VACAY. HE’S GETTIN’ SOME SWEET, SWEET VACAY TIME WITH OUR NUMERO UNO HERO OF THE GALAXY CORAN.” So, yes. I’m fueling all of my aggressive hand flailing and monologuing and pacing to write this.

Lance sniffed covertly at his jacket sleeve before sighing and shrugging off his jacket. He and Coran had not packed extra clothing because they really hadn’t expected their minor errand to morph into an infiltration mission of a crime syndicate. Lance and Coran had been doing their best to clean their clothes so that they at least didn’t smell, even if they were wearing the same outfits everyday. Sita, apparently, disagreed as, upon seeing Lance in the same outfit for the third day in a row when they met up for their date, he immediately dragged the teen towards the marketplace. Currently, Sita was negotiating something with the shopkeep of one of the larger, nicer clothing stalls and Lance was desperately hoping that he didn’t actually smell _that bad_. Maybe it was just his jacket and tying it around his waist would lessen the smell since it was farther away from Sita’s nose?

“Hey, beautiful,” Sita called catching the paladin’s attention. “She’s grabbing some of their higher end items for you to try on. Why don’t you head into the dressing room?” 

“Uh,” Lance replied eloquently, “I don’t need anything fancy.” His eyes darted around the stall, lingering on what looked like a sale rack. He could practically hear his mother’s enthusiastic voice in his head, telling him to hunt for the good bargains. “I really don’t have that much I can spend anyway--”

“Nonsense!” Sita proclaimed, stepping closer to Lance so he could pull him deeper into the stall, towards the changing room. “I’ll pay. After all, I’m the one reaping all the benefits, getting to see you in such beautiful clothes.”

While Lance was certainly far more hesitant about Sita and his affections after the man had hit on Lance in disguise, the paladin wasn’t about to say no to free stuff. A bombass outfit would make an excellent souvenir after all. He made his way past the beautiful patterned fabrics that hung as the curtains separating the small area from the rest of the stall so patrons could change. Each of the fabrics was incredibly soft and airy, letting the breeze travel through them even as they obscured everything from view with their bright visages. Maybe, if Lance was lucky, whatever he’d be wearing today would be made from the same fabric. It’d be a welcome change from the sweltering hug of his jacket in the heat of the planet. 

It wasn’t long before a large pile of outfits was thrust at him through the curtains before they swished shut again. Oh, they were certainly made of the same fabric. _Score_. Lance only half-listened to Sita’s request to see each outfit as he quickly peeled away the clothes he’d been wearing entirely too long so he could let his skin breathe. He couldn’t stop himself from doing a quick twirl in only his boxers, relishing the caress of the air on his skin, before digging into the mountain of outfits he’d been given.

Lance was aware that indulging Sita too much wouldn’t bode well. Even if Lance was interested in the ruby alien, the paladin could never stay long considering he was, well, a _paladin_. On top of that, as much as Lance loved exploring the stars, he would never be able to overcome the call of the soft, beautiful beaches of Cuba dragging him back home. No real relationship could be borne from this situation. For a split second, the boy worried he was leading the alien on as he tugged a shirt on over his torso, but, by the time the colorfully patterned shirt had settled against his skin, all worries left Lance. _That’s right._ Sita clearly didn’t view this as anything serious, considering he had hit on Lance yesterday-- well, he’d hit on Lance when he was in disguise but still. _Cool. cool._ They were in agreement, then. This was a casual thing _at best_. A lot of flirting, but nothing beyond that. No commitment. That’s _fine_. Good, even. Lance couldn’t do commitment, being a paladin of Voltron, well unless it was another pa-- **Nope. Stop that.** Lance had to derail that train of thought before it could even leave the station. 

Now Lance just had to shake that feeling that his name was in small fonts and scrolling past the screen too quickly at the end of the show and then he’d be all set.

Sashaying his way out of the dressing room in a loose, flowy tank top, what looked like harem pants, and with another colorful fabric wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl, the boy struck a pose to the delight of Sita and the store worker. See, _this_ was why Lance wasn’t just calling the whole thing off and settling his relationship with Sita in solidly platonic territory. The attention was amazing. At least when Lance was around, Sita seemed to give him his undivided attention and simple heaped compliment after compliment on the boy, which felt _really fucking good_. Sure, when Lance wasn’t in the room, Sita seemed ready to start scouting for his next fling, but who even cares? Lance wasn’t in the room to witness anyway. So, for now, the paladin would treat himself to Sita’s attention and, when the time came for them to go their separate ways, it’d be a clean break. _Easy_. No love lost.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” Sita said as his turquoise eyes dragged slowly across Lance’s form.

_Damn **right** , he is. About time someone noticed._

Next was akin to a romper, which, like the tank top he’d worn before, had arm holes far larger than the standard Earth shirt, since most inhabitants on this planet had four arms and each hole was meant for two arms. The bottoms of the arm holes hung so low that Lance could comfortably hook his thumbs in as thought they were pockets. The fabric draped beautifully across his body and the boy could only wish for a mirror to admire his own visage in. Well, the enthusiastic compliments Sita and the attendant would surely heap on him would have to do instead.

And, _yeah_ , the compliments were definitely nice. They were filling a void in him that had been aching long before he left Earth, but he could feel another itching in him only bury itself deeper as he basked in the shallow praise from strangers. _Whatever_. There isn’t a whole lot of time to be emotionally intelligent and mindful when you’re waging war in space so Lance can probably keep putting that off. 

Things continued in the same easy vein until Lance tried on an outfit with sleeves. Not sure what to do with the two extra sleeves, the paladin had let them hang loose when he walked out, which was apparently a mistake judging by the sneer which briefly flashed on Sita’s face before vanishing without a trace-- coming and going with the same carefree and willful ignorance of context as Q to and from Picard’s chambers. 

“I thought I told you to only bring me clothes he could wear,” Sita said, turning on the attendant with anger boiling beneath his casual tone. “Insulting my date is _dangerous_ as I don’t take kindly to xenophobia, miss.” Lance could see the attendant shrinking back in fear, trembling hands coming up in front of her in worry as she watched the red man with wide eyes. “I’m sure you know who I am and what I can do to you and those you love.”

“Sita!” Lance called out, “chill! It’s fine. Look!” Taking the two extra, lower sleeves and tying them around his waist, the blue paladin struck an easy pose. “Now it’s a belt.” Sita looked stunned at the boy. “See, it’s all good. She didn’t mean anything by it. Hell, I like it.” Lance shot a reassuring smile at the attendant. “Thank you so much. I love it.” Holding that smile in place, the teen fought the urge to smack Sita upside the head. What the _hell_ was he doing threatening this poor girl over a shirt of all things?!

A large grin broke out across Sita’s face, startling Lance. Soon enough, chuckles erupted from his ruby lips without ever tearing his turquoise eyes away from Lance. “Sorry,” he said to Lance before turning to the attendant, “sorry. It’s just--” He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I’ve met a lot of off-worlders and not many take that kind of incident in stride. Usually, it doesn’t end well for any of the parties involved.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, trying to compare me to anyone else isn’t going to help you.” _Especially not Lance himself when he was wearing a fake mustache_ , okay so maybe he hasn’t let that go yet but _Lance was entitled to still be pissy about that, thank you very much._

“I’m learning that,” Sita said with a wide smile. And while Lance was still upset with him, he had to admit that was a _nice_ smile. 

“Um,” the attendant called softly with her large eyes directed at Lance. “I can go get more clothing with sleeves that would allow you to do that, if you’d like?” She paused only for a moment before continuing, “also this only occurred to me after you started trying on outfits, but there’s one particular line by a prominent local designer that has a color scheme that would suit your eyes so well and I _really_ think you’d look good in it and, well, um.” Her four hands nervously fiddled with the hem of her long shirt.

“Lay it on me,” Lance said with a grin.

“ _Yes!_ ” She tittered and clapped her hands together before setting off for more clothes. Lance and Sita were left alone, silently measuring one another up after Sita’s outburst. 

The paladin couldn’t hold his tongue. “You shouldn’t have threatened her over something as simple as a shirt. I didn’t join your organization to scare and hurt innocent people. I didn’t agree to spend time with you so that you could threaten a girl and her family because of a shirt.”

Sita’s turquoise eyes widened once more. “You really are something else. Usually when I took off-worlders to places like this, they hate having their body called into question by the clothing. Most feel comfort when I exert some of my power to make sure they don’t have to deal with any xenophobes. The threats are all for show. I’d never go through with it. It just makes most feel safer is all,” he said casually.

“Most, huh?” Lance tried to muster the same air of nonchalance. Sita had jumped straight from one sore topic to another. “You certainly get around.”

“So you’ve heard?” Sita kept an easy smile as he regarded the paladin cooly as though he could see into his mind and see how the teen really felt on the matter. “I suppose Kep told you.”

“Nope,” Lance popped the p and averted his gaze to the direction the attendant went off in, hoping to seem like he was simply watching for her return and not avoiding uncomfortable eye contact with his date. “Kep didn’t say anything. You’re just easy to figure out.”

“Oh?” The man replied with a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tell me, are you jealous?”

_That was the question of the hour, wasn’t it?_ The short answer was **no**. Lance wasn’t jealous. Now, if only life consisted of just the short and easy answers.

“What do I have to be jealous over?” Lance said aloud with his most casual of shrugs to really emphasize that cool, unphased look he was going for. “Besides, it’s better this way. It’s not like I’m going to be here forever.”

The responding shrug Sita gave looked so effortless and classy, it made Lance’s blood boil. “You got somewhere better to be?”

A quick thought of Earth dashed across his mind, the golden glow of the beaches at sunset, the smell of salt in the air and dancing on his tongue, before it was replaced by the swelling, towering presence of the castle of lions. “I have people who need me.” 

He and Sita ended up leaving the store with two weeks worth of outfits. Walking back out into the marketplace in local clothing, Lance finally shrugged off the feeling he stuck out like a sore thumb-- or well, he didn’t stick out _as much_. Ultimately, he still only had two arms and an unusual complexion, but the clothes were enough of an attempt to fit in that he could feel the curious stares lessen. That, or Sita’s presence at his side was an effective deterrent. Glancing down at the colorful, gauzy tunic he was wearing, the paladin mused that these might be his nicest planetary souvenirs yet.

“I’m familiar with the inn you’re currently staying at,” Sita said casually. “I’ll have someone drop the rest of these off at the front desk for you so we don’t have the mind the bags while we’re out and about.” Lance gave him a curt nod and tried not to dwell on Sita knowing which inn he and Coran were staying at. He was pretty sure he’d never told his alien pursuer which inn he was staying at-- then again, Sita had Kep on his side so it wasn’t that surprising. 

“Where to next?” the blue paladin asked, settling his hands in his new pockets as he cast an appraising glance about the marketplace. There wasn’t a whole lot that one would consider _date_ worthy attractions in the area.

Sita’s naturally gravelly voice made his hum sound like a purr. “How do you feel about dancing, beautiful?”

_God_ , Lance could _absolutely_ go for a dance. He needed to cut loose in a way he hadn’t really had a chance to since Blue had first carried him and the ragtag crew forming Voltron up into space. Allura’s galas ( _cough_ space balls _cough_ ) weren’t exactly the proper venues for anything outside the realm of ballroom dancing unless Lance wanted to square off against a very angry Altean princess. 

“Yeah. Let’s dance.”

\----

Coran casually strolled through the warehouse district, faux mustache firmly in place atop his own, as he covertly scoped out the area. He’d shifted his skin tone and height as well as donned a cloak to hide the number of arms, just in case the mustache wasn’t enough this time around. This area was far different from the market that he and Lance had spent most of their time in. It was far more dilapidated; the buildings, seemingly made of a compacted mud or sand, were less colorful and bore many scars of time and violence.

Coran saw very few people wandering the streets, and those he did see would immediately vanish from sight upon spotting the stranger. The entire district bore an air of distrust and wariness. Glancing into darker alleyways, the Altean could understand why. He averted his gaze and set his heart back on the main mission. Coran had seen so much worse, especially the events leading up to and during the great war with the Galra. He could hold his heart steady through this. _So what_ if fire burned in his blood at the sight of a small figure getting pinned against a mud-brick wall by two large and imposing goons. _So what_ if Coran was plenty capable of stopping them, although it would likely make a commotion and make his reconnaissance of the area that much harder? He had a mission to complete. He needed to stay on task.

Slamming his elbow into the back of the head of one of the goons, before delivering a quick kick to the other to knock him off his feet, Coran dropped into a fighting stance. _So what_ indeed. His time in the military had molded his fighting style. Where, as a young man, he had thrown loose fists packed with nothing but grit, raw strength, and spite, he now delivered quick blows with an elegance designed to down and disarm an opponent as quickly and effectively as possible. Coran was not the greatest warrior, but he was enough to protect those he had to once he was given the position of royal advisor.

Using his Altean strength, he picked up the first man he’d hit and tossed him atop the other. “I suggest you leave.” He said simply, his loudly cracking knuckles betraying his small smile. With the goons taken care of, Coran turned to the person who had been held against the wall. “Are you alright?”

_Oh_. Coran blinked in surprise. _A familiar face._

\----

Lance had collected many souvenirs from all the planets he and his team had explored. Most of these souvenirs were things he could put on a shelf, a visual storybook of his adventures in space. These weren’t his most precious souvenirs though. He didn’t really mention it to the others, but there was another thing he was collecting as they bounced from planet to planet, alien civilization to alien civilization.

He sipped a sweet, bright blue drink as his gaze drank in the colorful crowd on the dance floor. He was two arms short to perform the moves exactly, but he got the general vibes and it wouldn’t be that hard. The general humanoid shape of the people on Datang III made their dances far more accessible to Lance than some others. Edosians, for example, had dances that _really_ required that third leg to be used in ways that Lance just couldn’t imitate. The Datangian dances didn’t require all four arms for most of the moves and Lance was _loving_ their beat. 

Downing the last of his drink, he swapped his gaze to the man who’d brought him to this underground club. “You ready to dance?” _Literally_ underground, to escape the heated air of the surface. Speaking of heated, Sita had been ogling him since they first entered the club. Lance’s question caused the ruby red alien to sprout a grin. 

“I promise to take it easy on you,” Sita teased. “You’re new around here, so I doubt my reputation has reached your ears.” Lance mentally reviewed what Coran’s summary of Sita’s reputation. _He’s well-liked. So?_ As soon as Sita set foot on the dance floor, the music cut off and all the overhead lights swung to focus on him. Lance could hear whispers from the club-goers as people cleared from the dance floor to make room for the man in the spotlight.

“ _Is that who I think it is?_ ”

“ _Oh my god, he’s going to dance._ ”

Sita looked back at Lance from over his shoulder with a smirk. “I’m kind of a big deal.” A soft beat poured from the speakers, delicately rising in volume as Sita took center stage.

“ _It’s the dance champion._ ”

Lance felt a flash of competitiveness run through his veins. _Dance Champ, huh?_ A clash of instrumentals hit the scene and Lance was reminded somewhat of Rockabilly music. Watching Sita start to dance, the movements looked like the beautiful love child between bopping and b-boying and Lance knew he _had_ to get in on that. It looked unbelievably fun. He wondered if they had anything in the vein of swing dancing. While he wasn’t sure he could lift Sita, he bet those four arms would make swing extra interesting. Sita’s eyes would drift back to Lance when he had the opportunity and there was such a smug look on his face, Lance couldn’t wait to wipe it off.

Waiting for a natural lull in the music, Lance made his way onto the dance floor. Sita watched the approaching human with curious eyes, limiting himself to more basic moves that would allow him to keep eye contact. Apparently he read something in Lance’s eyes, as he gave the paladin the kind of hotshot smile Lance knew would be gone soon enough. Whatever Sita had opened his mouth to say, Lance cut off.

“Do your best to keep up,” Lance said with a grin before the music picked up again and he dropped down to start performing flares. Of all Earth dance styles, breakdancing was generally the most impressive to aliens, which the paladin could understand considering the just how physically demanding the moves were. Balancing on alternating hands, his hips orbited around him as he swung his legs out in wide arcs spiraling around him, never touching the ground. It was a damn good things the clothes Sita had got him weren’t constricting as his legs were spread far apart, almost in a split as they circled around him. He could hear the startled gasps and awe-struck coos of the crowd, but he couldn’t exactly settle his gaze on anything in the room long enough to gauge their reactions visibly. Especially Sita. _Welp, quiznack it. His arms were starting to ache._ He definitely wasn’t able to see now that he’d used the momentum of his flares to drop from his arms to his back and pushed with his elbows to spin his entire body in quick revolutions. Holding his hips up in the air and keeping his legs open and apart, the paladin performed windmills with his legs serving as the blades that cut through the air. He could hear the audience again cheer him on, however Sita remained silent. Between his aching core muscles, the music winding down, and the burning curiosity to see Sita’s reaction, Lance resolved to stop showing off ( _for now_ ).

He slowed to a stop, ending up laying on his side and decided to top it off by propping his chin on his hand and raising an eyebrow to Sita in challenge. The alien’s turquoise eyes were wide, not as wide as Sita’s mouth, however, as he gaped at the human on the ground. The music shifted, a tune Lance recognized started to play and the paladin jumped to his feet. 

“Are you just going to stand there, staring?” He teased, already starting to sway his body to the music. “This song is Bolian and the dance is typically meant for two.” Lance winked and drew his hands up into the traditional starting position. Bolians only had two arms and two legs, which made their dances extra convenient for the paladin.

Sita blinked rapidly, as though to get something out of his eyes. “You know the dances of Bolians?” He asked with a slowly growing smile. He too, assumed the traditional starting position, although modified since he had four arms.

“I know _many_ dances,” Lance responded with a grin.

\----

Coran tried to give the startled teen a gentle smile. Wide baby blue eyes watched the interloper and a bubblegum pink blush lit up dusky rose skin. His clothing was just as ratty as the last time Coran had seen him, although the teen’s facial expression was nowhere as harsh when he had been preaching Sita’s deviancy. “Hello again, young one,” Coran tried.

“ _Whu_ \-- again?” The young alien asked, bewildered. His blush only seemed to intensify. “I don’t, uh, I-- I’ve never,” he swallowed thickly before attempting again. “I’ve never seen you before.”

Coran blinked in confusion before remembering his disguise. Hitting his palm lightly with his fist, the Altean refocused his attention on the teen. “Right, my mistake.” He couldn’t exactly take his disguise off here. There was no way of knowing who could be watching and their ability to disguise themselves so effectively was one of his and Lance’s trump cards here. “Stay safe,” he said as he made his way back to the alleyway entrance. Before he could leave, however, he felt a tug on his cloak. Turning around, he found the teen grasping the edge of his cloak. 

“Uh,” the teen mumbled, his blue sclera focused on the ground. He was certainly far more nervous and soft spoken than the last time Coran had seen him. “Could you, maybe, _walk me home_?” His words tumbled out of his mouth awkwardly and quickly. Coran couldn’t find it in his heart to say no, such a small youngling asking for help.

“Alright,” he said, turning to face the teen. “Lead the way.” 

It was while walking the dusty rose-colored teen to his rundown neighborhood, that Coran realized there was a problem. The teen was fidgeting nervously, all four hands wringing together, as his gaze darted back and forth from Coran to the ground and back to Coran, like a maddening game of catch. The bright blush had persisted throughout the short walk and the intensity of it seemed to mirror how close Coran walked to the teen. _Well, quiznack._ Coran was pretty sure the youngling was roughly the age of Lance in terms of development, which meant this was definitely a problem. Coran was _way_ too old for him. Literal millenia of years too old. He needed to get this kid home quick and then return to his initial mission of surveying the area for their raid tonight.

“Uhm,” the teen said softly. “My name is Karrfelp. My friends call me Karr.”

“Nice to meet you, Karr.” Coran said simply. He ignored the imploring look the teen sent him, clearly asking for his own name in return. They continued walking in silence for a bit before Karr made another attempt at conversation.

“You’re not Datangian, are you?” Karr asked, his voice slightly stronger this time. _Oh no, he was growing bolder with time_. Coran’s cloak had been disheveled during the fight, revealing his sole two arms.

“No,” Coran answered simply as he kept his gaze forward facing and away from the teen.

Karr bit his lip in apparent frustration before continuing. “You’re lucky. This place sucks.” His baby blue sclera glanced through the alleyways they passed. “Most of Datang III is uninhabitable. Just a bunch of desert that will kill you if you enter. This is one of the only places on the planet where anyone can live and it's only here because the mines were attracting enough business for us to do trade with other planets. But now a bunch of complete Friit-suckers have taken over the mines and control of the city.” The more the teen ranted, the more worked up he got. “It’s more like a prison than a home.”

“I don’t know,” Coran hummed. “Things are definitely bad,” he agreed as he thought back to the children in cages upon the stage and the children unknowingly waiting for him in the warehouse. “But, at least you’ve always got a place to come back to.” He could see Karr open his mouth to argue out of the corner of his eye. “That’s not a luxury all of us have anymore.” With that Karr’s mouth snapped shut. Silence once again swelled and they made their way through the deserted streets.

“The place you’re from,” Karr said softly. “What was it like?”

Coran knew he shouldn’t give Karrfelp too much attention, but he couldn’t help but indulge in reminiscing about his home. “Too beautiful for words. The skies were such a crystal clear blue, like the quintessence powering our cities. Even the storms were beautiful with the way fire lit up the sky and the rhythm of the stones hitting our rooves.” His eyes found the slowly darkening sky above him, he could make out some brighter celestial bodies, but not much else. Even if the sky was darker, he still wouldn’t be able to see Altea from here. He wondered where Altea would’ve resided in Datang III’s night sky. If Karr’s ancestors had seen his home among the stars and gave it more than a passing glance. “Nothing lasts forever,” he found himself saying.

Judging by the look on Karr’s face, he was also familiar with the concept, although Coran felt he looked far too familiar for one so young. The Altean was reminded of Lance when he spoke of Earth and couldn’t hold his tongue.

“It isn’t all bad, though.” Coran declared casually. “I still have my memories. In that way, Al-- _my home_ is kept alive. I also still have some people who are important to me. We’re travelling together, working on something important to us.” He glanced down at Karr. “We live on. We meet new people. We find new meaning in life.” He slapped a friendly hand on Karr’s back before withdrawing it quickly. Just in case.

“Are you looking for a new home?” _Quiznack._ Coran could hear the hope edging into the teen’s voice. 

He shook his head. “There’s something we have to do first,” Coran answered carefully. Karr seemed to take that answer well enough, nodding and falling silent. The quiet lasted until they arrived at a mud-brick building that had scrap metal holding up one of the apparently crumbling walls.

“Thanks,” Karr said simply, walking up to the doorway.

“You’re welcome,” Coran answered cheerfully before turning around and heading back to the warehouse district. He tried not to ignore the feeling of Karr’s watchful gaze until he turned the corner. Sighing, Coran fiddled with his mustache, careful not to disturb the fake one a top it. He should definitely avoid donning this disguise in the marketplace where Karr seemed to frequent.

\----

“How do you know all these dances?” Sita asked over the pounding music as Lance spun him around.

“I’m _very_ well travelled,” Lance answered as Sita led him into a dip.

The crowd had filled back in around them on the dance floor, apparently satisfied with watching the elaborate dancing Sita and his mysterious date had done. The DJ had been playing a motley of foreign songs ever since, letting different dancers show off their knowledge in an impromptu multicultural night. Between Sita and Lance, at least one person always knew a dance from the planet and was more than willing to teach the other. Lance’s alien dance repertoire had greatly expanded that night.

As yet another new song started up, Lance and Sita exchanged a quick glance. _Oh_. Neither of them were familiar with this one. Shrugging and laughing, they stepped off the dance floor to get drinks and cool their bodies off. While the underground club was nice and brisk, the cool air couldn’t combate with the ever growing body heat emanating from every club-goer. Making their way to the bar, both could hear the rumor mill already spreading the news.

“ _The dance champ has met his match!_ ”

“ _They both dance so beautifully. Do you think they--_ ”

“ _Did you see those moves? I thought having only two arms would be a hindrance, but--_ ”

Two cold drinks were waiting for them at the bar. The bartender gave them a swift nod and a smile before attending to the next person. Sita chuckled and gave Lance a quick one-over. “I stand corrected. I did _not_ need to take it easy on you.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual,” Lance paused to gulp down the refreshing drink. It tasted minty and his throat felt like it was being covered in frost. _Ooh, that’s good._ “I don’t think it’s possible to take it easy on you.” He took another sip and let out a sigh. His breath was delightfully minty. “Here I thought maybe they were just calling you Dance Champ to be nice since you’re a big shot WOT guy.”

Sita laughed loudly, louder than Lance thought the joke deserved. “Maybe some do,” Sita replied after winding his guffaws down to chuckles. “Not many would be brave enough to say that out loud though.” Judging by the smirk, Lance was supposed to be scared. 

Lance shrugged. “Why? You’re not that scary. I’ve seen _way_ worse.”

Sita’s smirk morphed into a smile that looked miles more genuine, surprising Lance. “Like what?”

“Well, Xell’s face for one thing. He takes ugly and really pushes it to its limits.” Seeing the genuine smile on Sita’s face growing larger, Lance continued. “Seriously, how can someone look _that_ much like chewed bubblegum without melting into a puddle in this heat? I bet if you took one of his cheeks in your hand and just ran to the other end of a room without letting go, his cheek would just _stretch_ all the way across.” Lance pantomimed it by grabbing his own cheek briefly before pulling as far as it could go. “He’s stupid rich, right? Doesn’t he have access to any kind of beauty products? Or does he _choose_ to look that bad as, like, an intimidation tactic?” Sita was in stitches, laughing as the paladin continued. “See, that’s the complete opposite of my strategy. I think you should look _so good_ in battle that people can’t dare to mar your beautiful face. With Xell, I can’t help but think maybe one good punch could knock something back into place and it wouldn’t hurt to look at him so much.”

“You see many battles?” Sita asked teasingly between laughs. He obviously thought Lance had never even held a weapon before.

Lance shrugged, letting silence answer that inquiry. As much as he wanted to brag, to stun Sita for the umpteenth time today, he figured his fighting abilities were best kept a secret. After all, that’d probably mean telling Sita about Voltron which was a _huge_ no-no. 

“Well,” Sita declared, “I couldn’t bare to see that beautiful face hurt.” Lance couldn’t help the smile that burst onto his face with the sentiment. He was getting so much attention and it felt _so good_. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Lance teased, although it didn’t work too well as Sita’s expression sobered before his eyes.

“This is dangerous stuff your doing with us,” Sita said softly. His turquoise eyes watched Lance carefully, looking for _something_ although Lance didn’t know what. “You really could get hurt. If you want to back out now--”

The paladin snorted. “Not my style. My buddy, Coran, and I are already committed. There’s no way we can leave before doing something about those _ugh, orphan games_. Besides,” he said in a lighter tone of voice while bringing his drink back up to his lips. “Allura, er, my boss where I’m from, said Coran and I couldn’t come back until we had everything on her shopping list and we still don’t have the Kyber crystals she likes in her tea.” He swallowed back more of the minty liquid, willing himself not to say anything more about the Voltron team, lest he give away his and Coran’s identities.

Sita seemed surprised and Lance really hoped he didn’t, somehow, recognize Allura’s name. “That’s right,” the man hummed, “I forgot that you’ll have to leave one day.”

The paladin was thrown by that response. _What?_ That, he thought, was one of the most attractive parts of Lance to him. That Lance was never going to stick around in the first place. A sure-fire fling. No ties. Hell, they’d _talked_ about this earlier today. Sita didn’t seem too broken up about it then.

Sita glanced at the timepiece on the wall before downing the rest of his drink. “I’ve got a meeting with a few of the other lords coming up, so we’ll have to part ways here.” He stood up and paid the bartender before tossing a smirk at Lance. “I’ll see you soon.”

The paladin frowned before finishing his own drink as well. It was about time to meet up with Coran. They had orphans to save.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO. I took this off the anonymous tag so that people can find me (although you kind of already could because the anonymous tag doesn’’t really work with series) and harass me and send me langst so I feel compelled to update. You can also harass me and send me langst at my tumblr, artsybanchou, where pretty soon I’ll be posting about the spiritual successor to this story (despite this story not being finished). Here’s what you need to know about that: It’s called Kaltenecker’s Rootin’ Tootin’ Rowdy Rodeo of Shennagins She was Fixin’ ta Yeehaw.


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